The End
by platypus21
Summary: Draco relives past years of his life leading up to Voldemort's death. Short one shot.


Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all things recognizable as being part of the Harry Potter world. I own nothing, that's why I'm broke and she's not! 

Draco stood outside the manor staring at the window at the very top of the tower. He wondered how he had managed to live in this place for such a long time. His father had finally died while in Azkaban, and his mother had slowly but surely gone insane and was now a permanent resident at St. Mungo's. He had stayed at the manor for the past ten years leading a normal life, well as normal as a Malfoy's life could be, doing what Malfoy's did best. At least that's what the rest of the wizarding world though.

Draco made the choice during his seventh year to assist the Order of the Phoenix as a spy, similar to that of what Snape had done during his fifth year at Hogwarts. This was much easier to do with his father and mother gone from the manor. Voldemort was none the wiser and Draco passed information of his whereabouts and doings to Dumbledore while he was still at school. After he had graduated from Hogwarts, he was offered a job at the Ministry, but decided that it would be much easier to do as his father had done, live off of his money and portray the perfect picture of a well-to-do wizard living the underground life of Voldemort's lackey; an exact replica of his father.

He had fooled everyone, even his closets acquaintances. Crabbe and Goyle were too dense to even consider that he wasn't pure evil; Pansy was so pre-occupied with trying to get in his trousers that she wouldn't have noticed it unless it was hiding in his crotch, and everyone else was so afraid of him that they asked no questions. His demeanor had never once faltered, his determination stood strong, and his cold and heartless personality radiated from every pore of his being. This was how he had been raised, by cold heartless beings; he knew nothing different, so painting a picture of relentless stoicism was not difficult.

The first few years out of Hogwarts were easy for Draco. He took his fathers place in the wizarding world and at the Ministry of Magic being the man who pushed the right people in Voldemort's direction. Draco's contact in the Order knew his every move, but that person was the only one. No one else even knew that he was anything but what he portrayed. No other member of the Order was aware of his affiliation with them, and this was to keep each of them safe. There was still so much hate felt towards him from many of the member, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and the list could go one, that it was in their best interest to keep on hating him with all their might.

After the first six years Draco could feel his resolve breaking. He knew the Voldemort would be taken eventually, but how soon that day would come he was not sure. He lived his life, day by day; no future plans, nothing permanent, just day to day living. He knew that one day he would be able to make future plans, maybe date and get married, or even move away from this god's forsaken building he had called from the time of birth.

Finally, nine years after Draco had left Hogwarts, the time had come when the Order was able to defeat Voldemort and his followers. Only one of Voldemort's followers had survived the battle; that one was Draco. Dumbledore had made sure that Draco was not injured badly during the fight, but had done so without letting anyone know that Draco was on their side. At the end of the battle when he surveyed the body strewn ground he caught a glimpse of white blonde hair streaked with blood. Draco was alive, but just barely.

Instead of having Draco placed at St. Mungo's, Dumbledore had decided to bring him back to Hogwarts to recover. Draco recovered fully over the next three weeks, and during that time the rest of the members had been informed of what Draco had been doing over the past years to help in their fight. Draco could still see the hate in their eyes, but there was also something else present; Respect.

After recovering completely Draco went back to the manor, not especially thrilled to be spending another day in the dank and dark prison he called home. After spending a few weeks trying to figure out what he was going to do with his life now that he could stop pretending, he was at a loss for his future. He was finally able to make plans and change his life, and he had no idea what to do.

Then, in a sudden thought, he decided to sell Malfoy Manor at a very reasonable price to a large family in the village below. The family had twelve children and only about two bedrooms in their home, so Malfoy Manor was going to be quite a change for them. Draco just wanted to have no link to the foreboding home ever again.

Draco took one last look at the window he had so many times sat at, closed his eyes and tried to conjure one pleasant memory (which was the day before – destroying the dungeons), smiled, and then turned and walked away knowing that he could finally live life like a normal wizard.


End file.
